At school, being the child of a sanitation worker made me an easy target. The comments were rarely loud, but they were constant—quiet jokes, subtle gestures, and reminders that some people believed certain jobs defined a person’s worth. I learned to keep my head down, eat lunch alone, and say as little as possible. At home, though, I told a different story. When my mother asked how school was, I smiled and said everything was fine. I didn’t want her to carry one more burden. Instead, I made a promise to myself: if she was willing to work so hard for me, I would work just as hard to honor that sacrifice. Education became my refuge and my goal.
What changed everything was a teacher who noticed my curiosity and refused to let me limit myself. He challenged me with extra problems, encouraged me to apply to schools I never thought were meant for someone like me, and reminded me that circumstances don’t define potential. With his guidance, I applied quietly, not daring to hope too loudly. When the acceptance letter arrived—complete with full financial support—I sat stunned, realizing that the long nights of studying and the years of perseverance had opened a door I once believed was closed forever. Telling my mother was one of the proudest moments of my life. Continue reading…
